With You In My Head
by annamoore
Summary: AU – Cersei is a violinist and Jaime is her accompanist. Sansa Stark, recently fired personal assistant of Joffrey Baratheon is looking for a new job, and Cersei's PA Lancel was just fired for inappropriate behaviour. When their paths cross it's with the soundtrack 'Let's Fuck in G Minor', played with a violin soloist and a black and gold corset. Sansa/Cersei. Slash later.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I've discovered the secret of line breaks and now I am doing so with joyous glee. I have reposted the first three chapters plus TWO NEW CHAPTERS my lord. **

Music leaked from the studio, it positively bubbled from the cracks in the walls and seeped under the doors. A mournful violin sung out, the notes sailing through the building with a slow grace, like honey spreading across a smooth surface.

It was cut off.

"_Shit!"_ the exclamation was female and distinctly angry, followed by an amused masculine drawl.

"Shall we start again, or shall we call it a day?"

"No, again. Not from the beginning though, can we go from bar 42?"

A long sigh. "Of course."

The music resumed, the violin cascading over the sultry tones of the piano with a delicate edge. The violin faltered, the piano continued. The piano paused, the violin picked up. There was some shouting.

A door was flung open. In the doorway stood a woman, tall and blonde with shimmering green eyes and a mark on her neck that was either a severe hickey, or a sign that she had been playing the violin for too many hours straight.

"Just leave it, Jaime!" She announced to her accompanist, striding down the hall with purposeful steps in her battle armour of designer jeans and spike heeled shoes.

Cersei was trying not to let her anger get the best of her, she really was. She opened the doors to the building and took a few hesitant breathes of the outside air into her lungs.

It was dark outside, later than she realised. The lit up 'Kings Landing Concert Hall' was already flashing gaudily above the entrance, and she could see that the receptionists had swapped over from the day worker to the night worker.

She checked her phone, scowling at the amount of messages and reminding herself she still needed to find a new assistant. Her last one was fired after her Father had dubbed him inappropriate, but what that really meant was that he had found out that she had slept with him.

Lancel was a handsome guy, tall and thin with blonde hair and green eyes like hers. Jaime had joked that the only person Cersei would be happy fucking was herself, and then made some grotesque incest joke that had made her glare at him.

"A girl, this time." Her father had muttered, and she couldn't deny him anything after he had got her the job here. She was the in-house violinist at Kings Landing. She had rave reviews and her own dressing room. She was in _demand, _damn it.

"Yes father." She had replied obediently, thinking to herself that she might fuck the female assistant just to aggravate him and prove that she was still in control of her own decisions, and if she wanted to have sex with her assistant then she would. First came the little matter of finding an assistant though…

She put the thought out of her head for the time being and made her way to the parking lot, checking out her car and throwing her phone into the back seat. Resolving that her assistant should be the one to deal with her message bank, she pulled out onto the street and begun the drive home.

oOo

The butter hit the pan and sizzled loudly before immediately turning brown.

"No, no, no!" Sansa said under her breath, switching off the gas and scowling at the too-hot pan, throwing it towards the sink and folding her arms.

"What was that?" her brother's hesitant voice from the lounge made her anger seep out of her posture for the moment.

"Just cooking dinner, Robb." She replied

A derisive snort. "Sounds like you're jousting in there."

"Pan's too hot…" she trailed off as she stared at the sink, wondering how she had been reduced to making dinner for her brother and his girlfriend. She made herself remember being fired from her job as Joffrey Baratheon's personal assistant, the way he had ruined her chances of getting any other position in this town, the lack of salary forcing her out of her home and into her brother's, the way she promised to pull her weight around the apartment…

Reluctantly, she rinsed out the pan and put it back on the element.

Her brother appeared in the doorway not too long afterwards, his hair tousled and track pants riding low on his hips.

"Jaime's coming over tonight, want me to just get him to bring take out?" Robb asked

Sansa pouted, "Might be safer." She muttered, thinking mournfully of her mother's cooking at home, or the café around the corner from her old house that had done the most perfect spaghetti bolognaise in the history of the universe.

"When is he getting here?" She asked, turning off the gas altogether and feeling an odd sense of elation in giving up. Robb frowned and checked his phone for the time,

"He should already be here, but he had practise with his sister."

Sansa made a face, it was well known how bossy Jaime's sister could be. Sansa had only seen her in concert, standing straight with her golden hair tamed into a ponytail and the violin sitting like an extension of her shoulder. She had, however, heard many stories from Jaime and Robb that confirmed that her talent was probably the nicest thing about her, and her pin straight posture was probably due to the massive stick up her –

"I'll give him a call now, though. You should get back to your résumé." Robb suggested, gesturing lazily to the lounge room where Sansa had been updating her references for the past hour or so. She nodded thankfully and walked back to the office chair that had become her prison over the last 5 days.

She read over the previous line a dozen or so times without making any changes before the door was knocked on twice and opened with an extravagant gesture.

"Your saviour is here!" Jaime announced, holding up the bags of Chinese and winking at Sansa.

"About time!" Robb replied, entering the lounge room with one arm being clung to by Jeyne, his girlfriend.

"Hey, I had to stay back and look after the violin lioness." Jaime said, shrugging as he placed the food on the lounge room table. "She's all pissy because she doesn't have an assistant at the moment and she has to book her own hair appointments."

"God forbid," Robb replied with mocking seriousness.

"Did you get steamed rice?" Jeyne asked, rifling through the bags. She found the plastic container and extracted it triumphantly, taking up one of the one-person couches and gesturing for Sansa to join her. Sansa deviated past the kitchen for some cutlery before perching on the arm of the chair, leaning into Jeyne's shoulder to share the rice with her.

Jaime was glancing at the computer, reading over Sansa's resume and raising his eyebrows.

"That's an impressive looking CV, Sansa. Maybe I should recommend you to Cersei." Jaime joked, sharing a smirk with Robb.

"Actually, that might not be a bad idea. Sansa's used to dealing with over-pampered blondes. Joffrey, you…"

"Watch it," Jaime muttered, kicking out his leg to catch Robb in the knee.

"How much does it pay?" Sansa asked distractedly, still eating rice and looking at the remote wistfully.

"Surprisingly good. Then again, it would have to. She's a nightmare."

"You aren't seriously considering are you, Sansa?" Robb asked

She shifted on the seat and shrugged. "I need to get a job some time. It would look pretty good on my resume."

"I'll mention it to our father," Jaime said

"Jaime!" Robb chastised

"She offered, man!"

"Sansa, it would be hard work." Robb countered, turning to his sister

"No harder than attempting to cook for you and Jeyne."

"Oh is that what you were doing?" Jeyne asked, nudging her leg. Sansa poked her tongue out.

"I'll be fine. Thank you, Jaime. Let me know what your dad says." Sansa said diplomatically.

"Will do, Stark." Jaime gave her a wink. "I'll text him now."

Robb sighed but said nothing else, and Jeyne casually sniped the remote to turn the television on.

It was perhaps three minutes before Jaime got a reply, and suddenly his phone was ringing. He held up a hand to all of us and stepped into the kitchen to answer it, his voice muffled.

After a tense moment of silence Jaime re-entered the lounge, holding the phone out to Sansa.

"She wants to talk to you," he said, wincing. Sansa cleared her throat and stood up, taking the expensive looking phone from his hand and raising it to her ear.

"Hello?" She said quietly.

"Sansa, I presume. I need you to come to my house immediately and organise my schedule for the next week, drop some clothes off at the drycleaners, and check my phone messages. Jaime can tell you the address and my father can organise the paperwork. From your current location I would expect you in no less than half an hour, allowing you some time to present yourself neatly. I'll see you soon,"

The voice was cold and female; Sansa found her feet scrambling to obey despite herself. She was halfway out of the room before she realised what she was doing,

"I…" her response was cut off by the phone beeping loudly, signalling her call was over. She handed the phone back to Jaime, her expression bemused. He laughed at her slowly, pocketing his phone and sitting back down.

"Don't wear anything too revealing, and don't make too much eye contact. You'll be fine." He promised. "Oh, and keep in mind this was voluntary and you're getting paid."

Sansa managed a mute nod as she barrelled into her bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **

**Hello reader/s! This is my first fic and I hope it isn't too terrible. UnBETA'd so many apologies for any mistakes. Thank you for reading and thank you to the favourite/story alert person. You are my new favourite person. **

**Disclaimer: All characters belonging to the delightful GRRM.**

oOo

The violin strings were being sawed violently, the catharsis in the bow ravaging the thin strands continuously making the stress seep out of Cersei's shoulders. The almost butchered version of Ravel's _Bolero _was cut off when she heard a car pulling up outside.

She placed the violin tenderly back in its case and padded her bare feet over to the door, unlocking it with one hand and pulling the handle with the other.

She assessed the girl making her way up the driveway, her long hair like a flaming pennant against the afternoon breeze. She was smooth, all soft planes and creamy white skin. Her eyes were averted, staring into the ground and towards the black heels she wore. It was then Cersei swept her gaze appreciatively up her long legs, her thin shoulders and delicate hands.

She was momentarily taken back to Lancel, those skilled fingers plunging below the waistline of her panties as his lips fixed on her neck…

She bought herself back into the present with a jolt and tried not to imagine those hands as the slender ones currently reaching out to grip her hand in a tight handshake.

"Sansa Stark," she said simply, and the alarmingly blue eyes fixed onto her face.

"Cersei Lannister," she replied before correcting herself. "_Miss_ Lannister."

Oh, this was going to be fun.

She regretfully let go of the hand, savouring the warmth as she turned back to the house.

"Come inside," she said it as almost an order, and Sansa hurried to comply. Her affinity for taking orders was definitely going to be a good thing, she decided, regardless of whether or not she went through with the original plan to make Sansa Stark every bit as inappropriate as Father had called Lancel.

God, but Cersei would definitely feel like the evil seductress with this little dove. She was small, with a fairly flat chest and a thin waist. Cersei was immediately conscious of her tallness, those 'Lannister breeding hips', as mother used to put it. She scowled, aware that Sansa was probably in the kitchen by now, and slowly closed the door.

"Jaime tells me you used to be the personal assistant for Joffrey Baratheon," Cersei commented as she entered the kitchen, turning on the espresso machine which whirred and buzzed in the background like white noise.

"Yes, ma'am." Sansa replied, she had eschewed the variety of stools and couches available in the room and decided to stay standing by the counter, looking like a model for kitchen benches as she leant carefully against the marble surface.

"What was that like?" Cersei asked, a rare smile gracing her features.

"Horrible." Sansa said bluntly, before blushing slightly. "I mean, he was very difficult." She fumbled and gave up, averting her gaze. Cersei made it her mission to catch those blue eyes again.

"Indeed," Cersei said, producing two cups. "Take note, I'll expect you to make the coffee next time."

Sansa dutifully raised her eyes to where Cersei was tapping on the buttons, and Cersei caught a glimpse of those stunningly blue orbs.

"Now, my dry cleaning." Cersei said as the coffee finally spurted into the two cups. "I need you to pick up a few items, it's at this address." The handwritten note was folded three times and deposited into Sansa's waiting hand.

"My mobile phone is on the backseat of my car, there are a few voicemails I would like you to check and make a note of. I know you won't be aware of which ones are important yet so just write them all and you'll pick it up as you go along. I have a performance at the end of the week and I expect you to factor in my daily seven hours of rehearsal with any appointments made." Cersei reeled off, not mentioning to Sansa this was all written down currently in the note she had clutched between two of her fingers.

"I'll expect a phone call from you tonight detailing any information that seems urgent, and you can email me the notes from the voicemail." Cersei finished, placing the steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She looked down at the note in her hands, to the coffee, and then up to Cersei.

"Right," she finally said, smiling awkwardly.

"Oh, and Sansa?" she said quietly, forcing those blue eyes back up to her own and causing an odd shiver in the pit of her stomach that she seemed to equate with nervousness.

"Yes?" She prompted, her fingers curling around the coffee cup so she could bring it to her lips.

Cersei smirked. "You're doing fine."

A grin broke out on her features like waves against a beach. "Thank you." She said, wiping away the smile so she could sip the coffee.

Cersei found herself, oddly, remembering Taena. The first girl Cersei had felt stirrings in her abdomen for, the first female presence that could make her blush all the way down to her breasts. Taena was the one who made her realise that her sexuality was never going to be a stationery thing; it was fluid and moveable, changeable as the weather. One day she had desired the hard lines of a flat chest, the next it was the weight of a breast in her hand and a thumb brushing over a sensitive nipple, the surge of wetness compared to the splatter of ejaculate…

She could feel her cheeks heating up in the small confines of the kitchen, and finally admitted to herself that Sansa was an attractive woman. The subservience in that averted glance made Cersei feel powerful, in ways that made her want to pin the smaller girl against a wall and leave a mark on her neck that would last for weeks.

She shook her head, feeling her hair brush her shoulders and knocking herself out of her reverie. She was sexually deprived, that was all. She was frustrated and Sansa just happened to be here.

"So, get to it." Cersei managed to say, hoping her voice didn't sound as husky as it felt. She left the girl standing along in her own kitchen, retiring to her studio and pulling out the violin again. She rested it to her shoulder, letting her cheek brush the cold wood to cool down the overheated skin. With a flourish of the bow, she began a short and melancholy piece that quickly developed into something more sultry. She ignored the change and continued playing, feeling the notes drop out of the violin heavily like clothes onto the floor, the chords wrapping around her like smooth silk against bare skin. She gave a sharp, annoyed stroke to get her mind out of the gutter, but found the staccato beat just made her think of a hard slap to a rounded cheek, or a bite amongst tender kisses.

She dimly heard the front door open and close and tried desperately not to watch Sansa Stark leave, but she heard the music suddenly stop playing and then she was next to the window, watching as she climbed into her car.

A sigh escaped her lips without permission and she deliberated digging out an old vibrator and having away with this consuming feeling, but instead she pulled out the sheet music for her piece at the end of the week and set her violin back in its place.

oOo

The car door slamming made Sansa realise she was exerting too much force into mundane activities. She stilled her shaking hands for a moment and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, reminding herself she was still directly outside of Cersei Lannister's house.

She deliberated one thought: seeing Cersei play violin on stage was a hell of a lot different to seeing Cersei in person. She was tall and perfect with long, gold hair and piercing green eyes.

Even if she was straight, Sansa would be able to say that Cersei Lannister was _beautiful._ Sansa, however, was not straight. Not after her first bottle of champagne and a drunken night of truth or dare with her best friend Jeyne Poole, resulting in a lot of awkward glances the next day, the subsequent removal of a long list of 'firsts' including 'kiss, orgasm, and cunnilingus' and a firm grasp of the knowledge that she was an enthusiast of same sex relationships.

Cersei had undressed her with those eyes, she had seduced her with that husky voice, and then she had played something on the violin that Sansa would have named 'Let's Fuck in G Minor'.

"You're over thinking this," Sansa told herself. "You're just sexually frustrated because Cersei looks like a goddess and you haven't been able to masturbate in the past three weeks because you're living with your brother and it would be too weird."

She nodded at her assessment of the events and turned on the car, speeding away from Cersei's House of Lust and towards her Drycleaners, hoping that maybe this task would be slightly easier than the task of maintaining conversation with a woman who clearly owned at least _one_ riding crop. She shivered at the idea and pushed that thought from her mind, turning on the radio instead and reminding herself not to think of her current employer in possession of a riding crop.

The Drycleaners were only a few blocks away from Cersei's house, and she pulled up out the front with a sense of foreboding, feeling as though this could be some kind of test. She stepped out of the car, cursed herself for wearing heels, and sidled into the shop.

The woman behind the counter gave her a once over, as if absolutely certain Sansa didn't belong here.

"I'm here to pick up Cersei Lannister's dry cleaning," she said awkwardly, holding up the slip of paper and giving a hopeful smile. The woman perked up and nodded, leaving behind a curtain so Sansa was left standing in the foyer.

She reminded herself she had literally applied for and obtained a job in the space of ten minutes and was now working to keep herself from yawning and placing her hands in her pockets. She realised the drycleaners must have been almost ready to close, the darkening sky and the exasperated look that the woman gave her when she re-entered only confirming Sansa's suspicions.

She gave a curt nod and headed back out to the car, determined to drop off the dry-cleaning, get Cersei's phone, and be back home before Jeyne had finished off all the steamed rice.

She paused in the act of depositing the dry-cleaning in the back seat of her car when something caught her attention, something black and lacy and trimmed with gold.

"No," Sansa breathed, tugging out the one garment that was lying innocently next to a blazer and a pair of pants.

The corset was small, it was thin around the waist and flaring at the hips, tenderly reaching up as if to cup the imaginary breasts in lace trimming. The gold inlay made it shimmer in the disappearing sunlight, and Sansa felt her breath catch in her throat with the image of Cersei actually wearing this.

She filed that under 'thoughts for later' and laid the corset lovingly across the backseat, thinking that the sooner she returned it to its owner, the sooner it would be out of her car and therefore out of her reach.

She leapt back into the driver's seat and made for Cersei's house, noting when she got there that she must have gone out somewhere. On the door was a note, instructing her that the spare key was under the frog statue, that her phone was on the kitchen bench, and to leave the clothes in the same place as the phone was.

She entered the house with some difficulty, taking in the faint smell of her perfume and the lingering music of her violin, Sansa could almost picture her playing it by the window as if she hadn't moved since she had left.

She made her way to the kitchen and carefully slid the phone into her pocket, laying the garments flat on the bench and giving a quick nod to herself.

Thankful her first day of work was over, she made her way back to the car. She kicked off her shoes and threw them into the back seat, driving home barefoot and parking haphazardly across the lawn. She grabbed her handbag and glanced into the back to retrieve her shoes when a glint of gold caught her eye

"Oh no," she said out loud, realising with dismay that the corset was still draped across the seat in an obscene way, as if it had been flung there in passion. Cautiously she picked it up, looking at it for a few moments before making a split second decision to throw it into the boot, closing the car with a definitive click and locking the doors.

If Cersei didn't say anything, Sansa wouldn't say anything. If Cersei said something, Sansa would… lie.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you to my dear reviewer! You are adorable. **

oOo

Cersei wasn't entirely sure what made her less angry and more amused about the corset ordeal. The fact that her favourite lingerie product wasn't nestled in her still warm dry-cleaning meant she had to phone the Drycleaners and get them to confirm that yes, they had sent it off with her assistant.

So that meant that Sansa had either misplaced or, and this is where Cersei got confused, stolen the garment. Initially this had made her angry, then confused, and finally, aroused. Was she wearing it? Was she thinking about Cersei wearing it?

The very idea made warmth flood her abdomen, the thought of that perfect white skin contrasted against the silky black material. The deep auburn of her hair splayed down her back to where the little gold ties would meet. The bow before the apex of her thighs, the cups that held everything in so lewdly and barely that it seemed there was no purpose to the garment other than aesthetic.

She mulled over the idea as she played half heartedly, the notes bubbling out of the violin in a thoughtful way. The very object of her desire was in the same room, transcribing the voicemail that had accumulated over night on Cersei's home phone.

The rhythmic talking of someone on the machine, punctuated by the obnoxious _beeeeeeep_ was some kind of undertone to her playing, and she found herself keeping tempo with the beat that Sansa was tapping out against the machine with one hand idly as the other wrote notes on a small notepad. She knew if it had been anyone else she would have snapped, asked them to take it to another room or to be quieter while Cersei was rehearsing, but she found herself unwilling to part with her newest toy, the newest object of her fantasy. In the past week she had kept Sansa desperately close to her, forcing her to the most mundane of tasks so she could keep both eyes firmly on her new assistant. She had become a slight obsession, a code that couldn't be cracked.

They had known each other a week, but Cersei had already picked up little things about Sansa. The way she would take in a breath and a few seconds later decide to talk. The flick of her hair and the biting of her lip, the way sometimes her eyes seemed to betray the same lust Cersei felt for her.

And that's all it was – lust. Cersei couldn't pretend she loved this girl she had only known for a week, although sometimes she wanted to. She wanted to fall into that blissful oblivion and consume herself with only Sansa, but that could only end badly. Her father was pushy enough without discovering his daughter was also – god forbid – into same sex relationships. Publically wanting Sansa would be bad, so she kept those longing looks for when they were alone.

Such as now, and Cersei almost started when she realised that Sansa was staring back at her. They were holding each other's gaze, each undetermined to look away as the other.

_Beeeeeeep._

Sansa's eyes went obediently back to her note pad and Cersei resisted the urge to let out a commanding '_Look at me'. _

Instead she placed the violin gently on her shoulder and begun playing a soft tune, it was playful and wanting. She imagined it developing into '_You Can Leave Your Hat on'. _It didn't go beyond whatever it was though, and she thanked her fingers for that. They were moving carefully along the long neck of the violin, and she had often seen Sansa's eyes glaze over as they followed the movement of Cersei's hands. She scowled, wishing that tonight at the performance all of the audience could be Sansa. She was the most receptive audience she had ever had.

Sansa would sit awestruck, she would gasp at plunging notes, her eyes would bug when rapid movements occurred. Cersei would wrap herself in those reactions if not for the fact she had to continue playing the violin in order to extract them.

_Sexually frustrated_, she reminded herself. _Now, concentrate. _

oOo

Sansa was drunk. Though whether on the high of seeing Cersei's successful performance, or the champagne that was flowing freely in celebration, she wouldn't know.

She was attempting to mingle, smiling at anyone who passed and eventually spotting Cersei. She was stunning in a long black evening gown, all blacks and whites and the vibrant green of her eyes. Sansa moved to stand behind her, a flash of red colour over her shoulder, simply being there rather than being obtrusive.

Cersei, as always, noticed.

"You were fantastic," Sansa commented when Cersei turned her attention to her. "Absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," Cersei replied, an almost genuine smile tinging her lips. Sansa got the bizarre urge to bite them, but put the feeling down to being drunk and instead handed a champagne glass to Cersei.

"I think you deserve this." She commented, making Cersei laugh a warm and tinkling laugh.

"No, I think I might have to drive you home, dear." Cersei said, her cheeks flushed. Sansa beamed at the endearment and nodded seriously.

"I'll give you money for fuel,"

"Not necessary, I'll be driving your car. You bought me here, remember?"

"Right." Sansa felt a little wobbly on her feet. "Home."

"Cersei, my dear!" The voice was sudden, making way for a short man with a pointed beard.

"Petyr Baelish, journalist, critic." Cersei said this lowly to Sansa, "Hello Baelish!"

"That performance was astounding, although I have to say you and Jaime aren't working as in tandem as you used to." He commented, and Sansa suddenly felt herself bristle as though she were on edge. Cersei seemed to notice the change.

"You rushed the middle part, but the ending was pretty well done, I mean considering." Petyr said

"Considering what?" Cersei asked coldly

"Well, my dear. Considering you're getting on in your career. What goes up must come down, and all that." He said, possibly about to add on some more metaphors or clichés, but Cersei would never find out because his jaw was suddenly occupied. Namely, by Sansa's open palm.

"It is perfectly ungentlemanly to insult a lady thus!" Sansa proclaimed

"That's enough Sansa," Cersei said, but her eyes were wild and her mouth was hiding a smirk.

"Not until he apologises!" Sansa said

"Sansa." Cersei's voice was everything she had imagined. It was hard and ordering, almost proud and purring. She felt the word shoot straight to her panties and she suppressed a groan as she turned to look at her employer, vaguely aware of how _inappropriate_ she was being. But then Cersei had taken her by the elbow and was leading her out the door.

The cold night air was a slap to Sansa's face, and she felt a moment of sympathy for that Baelish man.

"You were entirely too aggressive in there, Sansa. I shan't have you drinking again if you're going to act like this."

"You aren't going to fire me?" Sansa asked, somehow confused

"Would you like me to fire you?" Cersei countered

"No." Sansa thought she answered perhaps a moment too quickly. However, it earned her a brief smirk from Cersei, so she supposed it was worth it.

"I'm taking you home; you can sleep on the couch." Cersei said, and Sansa could tell she was trying to use her serious voice. The valet was there, holding Sansa's car keys and nodding as Cersei helped the girl into the passenger's seat and then walked around to place her violin in the boot.

When she got in the driver's side, Sansa couldn't help but notice the self satisfied smirk on her features or the slightly set look about her shoulders.

"Thank you," Sansa said warmly, placing one hand over hers. Cersei tensed at the gesture and nodded curtly.

"Thank you for slapping Baelish, I don't think anyone else could have got away with it." Cersei said, suppressing another smile. Sansa scowled at that, she would have preferred Cersei to never suppress another smile again. Unless her mouth was occupied, by say, Sansa's mouth, or a gag, or … other parts of her body.

Sansa squirmed in her seat and told herself to think of non sexy things, made somewhat difficult when Cersei pulled onto the main road and accelerated up to the speed limit, giving a little smile of appreciation when the car climbed through the kilometres rapidly and winding down the window slightly so the wind tousled her hair and made her lower her eyes.

Sansa could almost swear she was doing it on purpose.


	4. Chapter 4

Cersei was doing it on purpose.

After seeing her corset in the backseat, after watching Sansa protect her from scathing remarks, after seeing those hectic splashes of red on her high cheekbones that seemed to read: I am Drunk, Someone Please Look After Me/Take Advantage of Me, Cersei simply couldn't resist.

She bit her lip as if in deliberation when nearing the turn off, saw Sansa's eyes follow the movement. Everything about tonight had confirmed in her head that whatever this relationship was between them, there was tension. Tension that was about to be relieved, if Cersei had anything to do with it.

They arrived in the driveway and Cersei turned the car off, not moving from her seat. Sansa seemed content to follow suit, and Cersei made sure she was waiting, she was absolutely still, her breathing was the only noise in the car, and then she carefully cleared her throat.

"Wait here, I'll open your door for you." She instructed, meaning for it to come out as a statement rather than an order but failing miserably. Sansa's only reply was a slight nod.

Cersei stepped out of the driver's seat, blissfully sober as she neared the passenger's side door and opened it slightly, watching as Sansa wobbled to her feet.

Unwaveringly, Cersei pressed her back against the car.

Her knee bent so her thigh was directly on Sansa's centre, warm and inviting, and she gasped in pleasure as Cersei leaned forward to whisper delicately.

"You misbehaved tonight, Sansa."

She positively shivered, arching her back and tipping her head to the car to give Cersei an unobstructed view of her neck.

"I'm going to go inside now. As punishment you must go to the boot of the car and put it on. Do not enter the house wearing anything else." Cersei said this all in a whisper, watching the little loose strands of hair quivering against her breath. She gave her earlobe a swift bite before retreating completely and turning her back, walking into her house with purposeful strides.

She entered the house, stilling her shaking hands against the key and pushing the door open. She took in a few shaky breaths, kicking off her heels and making for the bedroom.

"Shit," she muttered, looking at the clothes littered floor and sheet music splayed on most available surfaces. Still deliberating whether or not she had time to shove all of it under the bed, she heard the front door open and then close.

Reminding herself that she was in control, a powerful woman, older than Sansa, she shook her hair out and exited her room.

Sansa was in the doorway still, leaning heavily on the frame and dressed still in her clothes from the concert. She held up the corset in one hand, quirking an eyebrow with a drunk looking smile on her face.

"Two things," she said, clearing her throat. "First of all, I can't put this on because I'm not entirely sure my fingers could cope with the button mechanism." She then bought her eyes up to Cersei's.

"Secondly, I think I'd much rather see it on you."

Her voice was low and husky, and there was a moment of that blinding tension that made her nipples ache and her abdomen flutter. It was immediately set off by the drunken giggle that emerged from those pretty pink lips.

She staggered into the house and almost _flung_ the object at Cersei, and she would have been indignant had the next object that was flung at her not actually been Sansa herself.

She fell into Cersei's arms, looked up at that disapproving expression, and leaned onto her toes.

"I think you would look absolutely _delicious."_ Sansa confessed, her breath ghosting across her neck. Cersei tried her hardest not to shudder, reminded herself how drunk Sansa clearly was.

And Cersei was not going to take advantage.

Well, not a lot. Just one little thing…

She effortlessly captured those lips in a searing kiss, demanding entrance with her tongue along the seam that was parting. She sucked that bottom lip carefully, feeling her hands begin to wander and her mind give over to the numb buzzing of arousal when Sansa nibbled slightly on her top lip and sucked on the tip of her tongue.

Sansa's hands were threading into Cersei's hair and she simply wasn't sure if she could contain herself much longer, because now her bare palms were against the bare skin of Sansa's back and she was ridiculously warm, the heat rolling off her in waves that were almost palpable.

Sansa edged off her toes, the height difference becoming an issue until she leant forward and bit down on Cersei's collarbone. A cry was ripped from her throat as Sansa soothed the mark with her tongue and made her way downwards, her drunken yet sure fingers slipping below the neck of her shirt to clear the path for her mouth.

When she felt cool air against her bare breast, she knew she had let this go too far.

"Sansa, you're drunk." Cersei said weakly, regaining control long enough to collect Sansa's hands into hers and pin them behind her back. This seemed to excite her and Cersei only rolled her eyes.

"Astute observation." Sansa managed, only speaking when she realised her squirming was ineffective. She was eyeing Cersei's chest though, her purpose made completely clear without the aid of that obscene tongue darting out to moisten her lips in the most suggestive of gestures.

"I'm not going to take advantage of you, now go lay down and I'll fetch you something to sleep in." Cersei instructed, releasing her wrists and making a determined path to her walk in dressing room, an indulgence of hers that she insisted upon having in her house. She located the pyjama section and found some shorts and a singlet, unable to resist picking the shortest ones she could find.

When she returned to the front of the house she found Sansa was not on the couch. There was, however, a trail of clothes that was apparently leading into Cersei's room.

Steeling herself, she followed the path made by a discarded shoe, and then another, then a dress and…

Cersei felt her breath catch as she stared down at those little black panties, that bra that was peeking out of the doorway.

"Fuck," she intoned, debating internally with herself the pros and cons of entering this room._ Her_ room.

Her feet moved of their own accord, despite her dry mouth and suddenly quivering hands that she stilled against her thigh as her eyes roamed the room, finally landing on Sansa hungrily.

She was asleep.

The sheets were pooled around her waist, the crimson silk looking stark against her skin and her own auburn hair. Pale pink nipples stood on end in the cool air and she was spread in a completely open position, almost welcoming.

Cersei felt her internal voice urging her to tie those thin wrists to the bedpost and wake her up with some explosive cunnilingus, but she quelled this thought to strip herself, pulling on the pyjamas intended for Sansa and climbing into the bed, ignoring the little moral voice in her head telling her to sleep on the couch.

It was _her_ damn bed, after all.

She stayed on her side, examining Sansa in her sleeping state for a while before turning over, sighing boldly and questioning why she had stopped earlier. If it was anyone else she would have already had them, against the kitchen bench or on the floor of the hallway where they had been previously.

She rolled over again to look at this unremarkable girl. She was beautiful, yes. But then again, so was Cersei. So was _Lancel_ for fucks sake.

She ran a hand through her hair and remembered she hadn't taken off her mascara yet, or had a shower. The cold sweat that had formed before a performance was still a dried residue on her skin, the tension of holding the violin in the same position on her shoulder still aching lightly.

Making a decision she rolled out of bed, leaving Sansa to sleep as she made her way into the bathroom. On her way there she paused at her wardrobe, muttering a low 'fuck it' as she pulled a waterproof vibrator from one of the drawers and pocketed it.

She had gone to bed sexually frustrated too many nights in a row this week.

She stripped again, looking at her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. Her face was still flushed from their earlier encounter, the blush spreading to the tips of her chest. Her stomach muscles fluttered under her own scrutiny and she placed the vibrator on the same shelf as her shampoo and conditioner, climbing under the nozzle and turning the taps impatiently.

The shock of water seemed to wake her from a reverie, simultaneously sharpening her arousal and making her painfully aware of her awkward fumblings with Sansa, realising that now she might want to leave. Sansa was willing whilst she was drunk, but what would she think in the light of day?

Cersei groaned as the tepid water slid over her body, and she followed its path with her hand as she leant against the shower wall, turning on the little purple vibrator and letting the buzzing fill the silent spaces of her mind just as it was filling the shower.

Towards 2 a.m. she finally climbed into bed, sexually sated and clean, with bruising marks around her nipples from her own rough treatment and swollen lips from biting down her moans. She looked over at the innocent form of sleeping Sansa, who had tugged the sheet back around her shoulders so only her face and the tips of her fingers were visible.

"I hope you're happy." She muttered, flicking off the bedside lamp with a lazy gesture and letting her head finally hit the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa, being the well organised personal assistant that she was, decided to make a list of known facts about her surroundings before opening her eyes.

Known fact #1: She had been drinking last night. That much was obvious from the hazy memory and the bad taste in the back of her throat. Not the headache, though, Stark's didn't get hangovers.

Known fact #2: Speaking of Stark, she was stark naked. As in completely, to-the-damn-skin naked.

Known fact #3: She was not in her own bed. Her own bed wasn't this big, for a start, and her own sheets weren't this luxurious. Also her bed usually only had one person in it, which led her to…

Known fact #4: She was spooning against someone. Someone who, if Sansa hadn't bought the shampoo that she could smell, or observed with pinpoint accuracy the curves of the shoulders and waist that were currently pressed against her, she wouldn't have known. But she did know, _boy_ did she know.

Known fact #5: Cersei was having a delightful dream.

Her eyes finally flickered open to take in the scene. The sheets were a vivid crimson in the light of day, they were bunched obscurely around their two entwined bodies. Sansa's arm was trapped under her boss' waist, her other arm in the space between her head and her shoulder, bent at the elbow so her fingers were resting just under the collar bone, before the swell of her breast.

One of Cersei's hands was tangled in the sheets, the other was holding the hand next to her stomach, tensing and releasing her fingers sporadically. Cersei, thankfully, was clothed.

Sansa didn't know what she would have done if they had _both_ been naked, but from observing the little scratch marks above Cersei's breasts, the hickey on her collar bone, and the dampness evident on Sansa's thighs well… it appears to be something they had already done.

"Sansa," Cersei murmured the name in her sleep.

"Fuck it," Sansa replied, leaning down slightly to brush a delicate kiss on the exposed skin of her neck. Cersei leaned into the touch, still sleeping, her body turning towards Sansa like a satellite.

Sansa brushed her lips lower, along the collar bone to bite delicately at the bruised skin. Cersei gave a little murmur of appreciation and let go of Sansa's fingers. Sansa carefully traced her fingers along Cersei's prominent cheekbones, across the unblemished canvas of her skin.

Cersei let out a little sigh and turned her face, taking Sansa's littlest finger between her lips and suckling lightly, almost fucking _nursing_ the tip of that finger until little shocks of pleasure were permeating in her abdomen.

"Why is that a turn on?" Sansa whispered to herself, watching as Cersei released the finger and took her own lip between those teeth, worrying the pale pink skin to a darker shade.

A sharp ringtone filled the spaces silence had left, and Sansa cursed loudly. The phone was perched on the bedside table furthest from her, but her personal assistant senses had kicked in and there was no _way_ that phone was ringing out.

She braced her hands carefully on either side of Cersei's head and leaned her weight across, feeling an awkward jolting as her sense of balance failed her. She automatically bought a leg up to support herself and found that she was now completely straddling Cersei, her fingers reaching for the phone and actually grabbing it in a surprising fit of agility.

"Hello, Cersei Lannister's phone this is Sansa Stark speaking." She finally managed, sitting back on her haunches and realising she was effectively using Cersei's pelvis as a chair.

The woman miraculously slept on, and –_ oh for the love of Christ –_ had begun a little grinding motion with those hips.

"Hello, Sansa. It's Jaime, I was just wondering if my sister was around? Father wants to have a little family lunch this afternoon, he's even invited Tyrion." Jaime's voice filled the room and Sansa scowled, her eyes scanning for her discarded clothes. She spotted her bra near the door and felt a surge of victory.

It was short lived, however, because in the next moment her sleeping boss gave a little jolt of her hips that forced Sansa's knee downwards, so her thigh was pressed against Cersei's _oh shit, so wet_ centre, and her own unclothed _– fuck why is this happening _now? – downstairs region was flush against the sheet-covered area she supposed was probably Cersei's thigh.

She let out an undignified squeak that was mirrored in Cersei's throaty moan, and felt her whole body tense as silence filled the other end of the line.

Finally, an amused chuckle.

"I see you two are getting along." Jaime said, his voice jovial.

"Jaime, it isn't like that." Sansa said quickly, mentally finishing the explanation. _No, it's just I've woken up naked in your sister's bed and now am apparently molesting her sleeping form while she dreams about me doing god knows what. _

"Of course. Give me a call when you two aren't… busy." He said, injecting as much innuendo into the last word as possible before hanging up.

"Fuck." Sansa said.

"Good morning," Cersei replied, and Sansa froze again when her eyes connected with those sparkling green ones. Her mouth was curved in amusement, not a trace of anger or confusion that might have come from waking up to find your personal assistant naked and straddling you.

"Um," Sansa managed. Cersei's eyes were unabashedly travelling over Sansa's body, from the tips of her nipples down to the place they were connected. Sansa felt a blush across her chest, a sudden tightness in her abdomen that spoke of things they might have done and maybe (_please, please, please_) might do again.

"Was that my brother?" Cersei asked.

Oh ok, so they were going to pretend that they weren't naked and in a compromising position, then?

"Yeah," Sansa breathed.

"What did he want?" Cersei asked, frowning.

No seriously, they were just going to ignore the whole naked-and-straddling-you-and-I-think-we're-both-quite-wet thing?

"Was it about the family lunch father had planned today?" Cersei prompted, almost making Sansa splutter with the ridiculousness of it all.

"Yes," she finally said. "He said that your father had even invited Tyrion, and you should call him back when you weren't busy." She managed not to choke on the last word, wondering how the hell Cersei was Mrs. Calm-Cool-and-Collected.

She was giving a little dubious frown at the moment. Finally, she held out her hand.

"Shall I call him now then?" she asked in a tone of voice that made Sansa suddenly overtly aware of every point on her body she was touching Cersei.

She was asking _permission_. She was insinuating _something_. Sansa had the sudden vision of picking up the phone and throwing it behind her, slamming her hips towards the bed and capturing Cersei's bottom lip between her teeth and perhaps growling something along the lines of _I don't know, I think we might be a bit fucking _busy_ if you ask me. _

Instead she felt the phone drop limply from her hand into Cersei's outstretched one, and in another moment of surprising agility, she flipped her legs over the bed and landed on her feet, facing away from her boss.

Sansa paused in the doorway, considering running back to the bed or saying fucking _something. _She looked down and spotted her bra, half in the doorway.

In a move of passive aggressive annoyance, she bent over at the waist and picked it up, leaving ample time for her assets to be admired before following the trail of her own clothes out into the kitchen. If she caught the disappointed look on Cersei's face or the wistful sigh as soon as she was gone, she certainly didn't give any indication.


End file.
